


Sins of Our Fathers

by lorelei_4



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Lyanna Stark Lives, Rhaegar Targaryen Lives, Rhaegar Won, rhaelya, rhaelyaAUweek 2021
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 05:40:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30033915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorelei_4/pseuds/lorelei_4
Summary: Tourney at Harrenhal never happened. To the great delight of her father, Lyanna marries Robert Baratheon. Life goes on as usual until, driven by his growing madness, King Aerys summons Lord Rickard Stark to King's Landing. The Warden of the North is accused of high treason and executed, after that the Mad King demands to send him the heads of all the Starks. The Northerners rise in rebellion with the support of the Vale, stormlands and riverlands, after months of war and Aerys' untimely death it eventually brings both opposing sides to the banks of the river Trident.
Relationships: Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen, Robet Baratheon/Lyanna Stark (past)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 58





	Sins of Our Fathers

The stone steps were steep and slippery, they seemed almost impossible to climb, but Lyanna was quite persistent with her wish to reach the top of the castle wall. She pulled up the hem of her dress in order not to tumble upon it and her thin white ankles were there for all to see, but Lyanna did not care. When she had finally reached her destination, she had to halt and catch her breath, grasping onto the wet stone. She felt dizzy, which was the result of her onion diet, but onions were better than rough boiled leather of jerkins, belts and boots and much better than nothing at all.

“Lady Lyanna,” Stannis greeted her, his voice almost carried away by the wind, particularly strong at this height. “What are you doing here?” Her husband’s younger brother had never learned to call her just by her given name. Even months of siege spent and suffered together in the same castle had not brought them an inch closer. Stannis had never spoken to her on anything except matters that were purely related to running and defending Storm’s End and she also kept her thoughts and sentiments to herself.

“I’ve heard from my maid that a guard had seen the king’s host riding towards Tyrell camp,” she replied. “I’ve come to see for myself.” If the king was indeed going their way, it would mean that all their hopes were lost and her brothers and her husband were either killed or captured. If the first option were the case with Robert, then Stannis was now her lord and master.

When her husband left her to join Brandon and Ned in their rebellion against the crown, Lyanna was carrying his child, but the poor babe had not survived the horrors of hunger. Her own body rejected this little girl or boy trying to save all the strength for itself. Lyanna mourned her unborn babe with all her heart, but now she no longer had enough fortitude for more tears and grief. All emotions were gone and her senses were numb. Her soul was empty and her mind grasped only necessary activities such as food and sleep. The news of the king’s approach was the first thing that succeeded to attract her attention in weeks.

“Aye, it’s true,” Stannis said dryly, handing her the Myrish eye he was clutching. Lyanna remembered being curious when seeing the device for the first time and now staring into it was almost part of the routine. Pressing her eye to the tip of the lens-tube she directed it towards the place where lord Tyrell’s tent stood and indeed noticed the red and black banners flooding the camp. So, it was almost finally over.

***

“A truce envoy arrived from the king,” Stannis said, as he, Lyanna and maester Cressen had gathered in what they all called Robert’s solar, even though lord of Storm’s End rarely made use of this room.

“What is that he wants?” Lyanna inquired. If not for the maester, she might have not been invited here at all. Stannis thought that it was not her business, but from the very beginning maester Cressen insisted that she should be involved in all the discussions, which concerned the war they were leading. They never talked about it openly between them, but Lyanna thanked the old maester in her heart all the same.

“Rhaegar Targaryen asks for the meeting,” Stannis explained. “But why should we oblige him?”

“Don’t you see that for yourself?” Lyanna was too weak to shout but that was what she wanted to do. “We are doomed. Davos Seaworth saved us from immediate death, but how long can we last on onions? And what if he’s captured and hanged?”

“Then we’ll die fighting,” Stannis could easily match her in his stubbornness.

“And I don’t want to die!” Lyanna exclaimed and that caused her a wave of dizziness. She raised her slender hand and massaged her temples. “If we meet with the king, we might make him see some sense.”

“Or he might behead us both right in the Tyrell camp,” Stannis retorted. “Or burn us as his father did to lord Stark.”

“Beg your pardon, my lord,” maester Cressen interrupted. “Allow me to mention that Rhaegar Targaryen is praised as a just and reliable man, a man to keep his word, very different from late King Aerys. There might be some truth to what lady Lyanna offers.”

“You see,” Lyanna pressed, “there’s no point in arguing that our cause is lost. I do not wish more people to die in vain. And if we are to gain something, we can only gain it trying to talk to the king and hoping that he’s not what his father was.”

“Fine,” Stannis agreed finally, giving her a scowled look, but Lyanna was sure he had done it only due to maester Cressen’s intervention and not due to the wisdom of her reasoning. It was not the first time. She was watchful enough to see that the man did not like Robert, although he remained loyal to him as his brother and his liege man. Lyanna was not sure whether Stannis disregarded her as Robert’s wife or as a woman who just should not meddle with such matters.

***

Lyanna clutched the reins with all her might as it helped her focus. She was so exhausted and her eyelids were heavy, while all her body felt as light as a feather and she thought she could be easily carried away by a strong gust of wind. She glanced at Stannis, who looked silent and sombre as he ever was, his jaw clenched so tightly, he was about to break his own teeth.

The gates were opened for them and they rode on the road, slippery after the continuous rain that followed the whole fortnight of heavy winter storms. Despite her warm fur cloak, which she had brought with her from Winterfell and which still bore the Stark sigil, she felt cold both from inside and outside, and even that cloak seemed a heavy weight on her tired shoulders. The air was so humid that it felt like it was filled with water and that made breathing difficult. Lyanna only prayed for her old gods that she will not fall from a horse and humiliate herself in front of the king or his servants.

They were met halfway by the king’s men, two of them wore white armour and cloaks and Lyanna guessed them to be members of the kingsguard. “My lord, my lady,” one of them greeted the Baratheons as the rest bowed gracefully, “my name is ser Arthur Dayne. I’m going to escort you to the king’s tent. Would you please follow me?”

“Thank you, ser,” Lyanna spoke. Making her voice sound louder than a mere whisper proved to cause quite an effort, but Lyanna did not want to seem weak or make those men pity her. Stannis just tilted his head slightly and they all went on with their short journey. In any other case Lyanna would have been over excited at meeting the legendary Sword of the Morning, but now her fate had made him her enemy and she was far too tired to feel even slightly curious. She was saving all her energy for what awaited her in the king’s tent.

King Rhaegar Targaryen looked not like she expected, though in the end Lyanna was not sure what she truly did expect. People talked right and he was very handsome, he could even be called beautiful with those high cheekbones, full lips and indigo eyes of his, although now he looked exhausted and troubled. Purple shades lay under his unnatural eyes, matching their colour. His gaze was concerned and he seemed very deep in thought, when Lyanna and Stannis were ushered inside his tent by ser Arthur.

The interior of the tent was quite modest with only the king's desk, very few chairs and a couch, hidden in the shadowy corner to allow its owner some rest from time to time.

The king greeted them politely and offered them to sit down as if they did not fight a war against each other and just met in court to discuss the latest gossip. His silver hair was scraped back into a ponytail to prevent it from falling on his forehead and eyes. He wore a simple brown jerkin and woolen breeches, the neck of his tunic was untied, exposing a piece of his pale skin. Lyanna noticed a snippet of a bandage, covering his chest.

He looked and spoke so composed that despite Lyanna’s wish to feel hostile towards him she simply was not up to it. _He probably killed loads of northerners_ , she reminded herself. _Loads of your own men_. She had noticed cups of water and small slices of bread laid in front of them. Was that some kind of a distasteful joke? She glanced at the bread and then stared fiercely at King Rhaegar.

He looked back at her, worried and concerned. “Do not get my intentions wrong, my lady,” he spoke hurriedly, “it is not my aim to spite or humiliate you. I consulted my maester and he informed me that anything grander may harm your health.”

Lyanna was surprised by his effort, but she did not want to show it, trying to remain civil but not friendly or amiable. She wanted so desperately to grab a piece of bread and plunge her teeth into it, but restrained herself from doing so. “Do you know of my brothers’ fate?” She asked, looking the king in the eye. “And my husband’s,” she added briefly, glancing at Stannis, while he, again, remained untouched.

“I do,” the king replied, studying her face intently, searching for some kind of hidden emotion. It was weird how he looked mostly at her and not at Stannis. “Your brothers are both here, in my camp, you may see them later.” Lyanna pursed her lips, stopping herself from sighing with relief. _He said that just to make it clear that he could easily harm them if we are not willing to suit his needs_ , she thought.

“What are you going to do with them?” she blurted out before she could shove the words back into her mouth.

“To be fully honest with you, I don’t know,” the king furrowed his brow. “I don’t want any more bloodshed, but I can’t just let them go.”

_It was your family who started it_ , she thought, though it was unfair to accuse that man of what his father had done. She could not blame him or speak against what he had just said. His point was clear and just, but it did not bring any relief or make her less scared. Her stomach made a twirl, making her rub her belly. She had never recovered from dizziness that seemed her constant companion these days. She pressed her hands together in a clutch, fell silent and looked down at her lap, watching her knuckles turning white. “What of Robert?” Stannis asked.

“I’m deeply sorry to tell you that, but lord Baratheon has perished,” the king said, compassion genuine on his face. Having heard that, Lyanna looked up far too quickly and small black dots started to dance in front of her eyes. She grasped the edge of the king’s desk, but her head already started to swirl around and a moment later she succumbed to the utter blackness.

When she came back to her senses, Lyanna found herself on the king’s couch and opened her eyes to look right into King Rhaegar’s face. She could see a small wrinkle between his brows and a small smile on his lips. It was the first time he ever smiled in her presence, and she thought that it made him look younger.

“Please, drink, my lady,” the king offered her a cup of water. “You’ve given us all a good scare.”

“I’m sorry to have bothered you,” Lyanna accepted the cup from his hand and took a small sip, cold and fresh water tasted better than the best of wine.

“It’s me who should be sorry,” the king replied. “The news of your husband must have been quite a shock. I can understand your feelings, my own dear wife passed away a mere year ago. Believe me that I’m being sincere in my condolences.”

She wanted to prove him wrong, but decided against it. The king thought that she was devastated by the news of Robert but she passed out merely due to prolonged hunger, exhaustion and constant worry. Thinking of Robert’s fate made her feel uncertain and nothing more. She bore him no heir and she had no reason to remain in his keep now, when he was gone, even though she did not know what was to become of Storm’s End. She did not know what was to become of Winterfell either, though she dearly wished to return there.

Lyanna tried to get up from the couch, but it only led to another attack of dizziness that forced her to lie back down. She felt a twitch of nausea and put her hand to her mouth afraid that she was going to vomit right at the king. “Lie still,” King Rhaegar warned. “We can all talk here.” He took his chair and carried it closer to the couch and after that did the same for Stannis, who was obviously too weak to perform the task himself.

“What do you want?” Stannis asked, staring vehemently at the king.

“I want peace and nothing more,” the king replied after some consideration. “Let me be open with you, I want to stop what my father had started. And I want you to surrender.”

“We have our conditions,” Stannis said sternly, boring King Rhaegar with his gaze of steel.

“Pardon my frankness, Lord Stannis, you are in no position to demand anything or offer conditions, while I am,” the king replied, meeting Stannis’s look with the calm, but strong stare. “And the first one is that you open the gates of the castle no later than tomorrow at dawn. I assure you that only my most trusted men would be allowed inside with me, so you won’t have to fear for the safety of your women. And I would have to request for your hospitality, as I want to negotiate the peace with all involved parties, including both Starks, Lord Jon Arryn and Lord Hoster Tully. You see, I’m proposing negotiation, and believe me, I’m being very generous.”

“And what if I decline?” Stannis asked, still not believing in the finality of his situation.

“You will die a traitor,” King Rhaegar replied, looking Stannis Baratheon in the eye. “And you, what do you have to say to my suggestion, Lady Lyanna?”

“Decision is not mine to make,” Lyanna said quietly, “Lord Stannis is the head of our house now.”

“I know that,” the king sighed, “and I don’t ask for a decision, I have just requested your opinion, that’s all.”

“I think,” Lyanna glanced at Stannis, noticing that King Rhaegar followed her gaze, “I think it’s time to stop. New deaths won’t bring my father back for all that matters. I want peace, Your Grace, I want it as much as you do.”

***

It took another hour of exhausting discussion to finally make Stannis accept that all was over and he actually had no choice even though the king made it look like he had one. Lyanna did not notice how she had drunk her water and eaten her bread, but she was glad that she had, as it made her feel slightly better. Despite her protests, the king insisted that she was to be carried back to the castle in a palanquin. “Oblige me, my lady, I don’t want you to fall from your horse and crack your head open,” he told her and she gave up. She thought it unkind to refuse him, especially after he had let her see her dear brothers.

Both of them were kept quite decently with a thick guard, but no chains, cages or shackles. Brandon was furious as a mountain river and Ned was tranquil as a forest lake. Lyanna was so happy to see them, that her excitement ate up all her remaining energy. Brandon cursed all the Targaryens down to Aegon the Conqueror and Ned was simply glad to see her alive and not harmed. If only the king would spare them, she hoped.

Once the word was uttered, Stannis remained true to it and right after the hour of the nightingale was over, with the first rays of morning light King Rhaegar Targaryen rode through the open gates of Storm’s End, thus manifesting the end of the rebellion. The siege was raised and all those who remained in the castle for months were finally allowed a proper meal, organized by the king’s men. King Rhaegar had brought some of his own supplies in and ordered to share them with the hungry.

The king occupied Robert’s former bedchamber and his solar, the kingsguard, Targaryen house guards and some of the king’s advisors were also accommodated in the keep, as well as lord Tyrell and some of his bannermen. Lyanna did not see much of King Rhaegar in the first couple of days, as he was busy with his kingly duties and she kept mostly to her chamber, resting and recovering from her ordeal. She knew that ravens had been sent to summon both Jon Arryn and Hoster Tully. She longed for their fast arrival and dreaded it at the same time, fearing what the king had in store for her brothers.

Ned and Brandon were also settled within the keep and Lyanna was allowed to call upon them, but only in the presence of the guards, thus making it almost impossible for the three of them to talk properly.

Rhaegar Targaryen himself paid her a visit three days after his arrival. She received him in her boudoir, he entered and stood in the middle of the room for some time, uneasy and tugging at the button of his doublet. Lyanna just stared at him, not knowing what to expect. “Please, do sit down, Your Grace,” she offered, remembering her manners.

The king muttered a thank-you and lowered himself in a chair, making it easy for Lyanna to observe him. When he was not discussing matters of state there was something boyish about him. His valyrian beauty drew her eyes to his face but his general countenance was quite simple and friendly. His look was warm and his expression concerned. Suddenly, she thought that he might have been a very tender and caring spouse, but brushed the thought away, as it was unacceptable for a woman, who had only recently lost her husband. Several restless moments passed before he finally spoke. “I was worried about you, my lady,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

“Very much better, I thank you,” she tried to smile. 

“I’m glad to hear it,” he returned her smile and Lyanna marvelled again at how it suited him. They continued to look at each other for a brief moment and then both averted their eyes.

Lyanna struggled with the topic for conversation, as it proved to be quite a tough task, as they were already past nonsensical small talk. “I want to ask you something,” she hesitated, glancing his way.

“Please, do proceed,” he urged her.

“I wondered,” she bit her lip and closed her eyes, afraid to look at him. “I wondered how my father died. I’ve heard some rumours, but I’ve never really known.”

“Trust me, my lady, you won’t want to hear that,” the king shook his head.

“Were you present?” she asked somewhat defiantly. After all, it was his father who stood behind that tragedy.

“I was,” the change in King Rhaegar’s mood was obvious. A heavy cloud was cast over his face. “And I swear to you with all I hold dear, I’ve done everything in my power to stop that from happening.” He sighed and pressed the tips of his fingers to his temples. “Have you heard of the defiance of Duskendale?” The king asked, changing the subject.

“I have,” Lyanna replied with an uncomfortable feeling that he was going to try and find excuses for Aerys.

“So you know, that my father was held hostage there, mistreated and tortured,” the king looked cool though his voice went a tone higher. “After he was released I, like you, demanded to know what happened to him and I regret that I was obliged. It did not help my father in the least and just gave me nightmares. One shouldn’t know such things about one’s parents.”

“I’m sorry,” Lyanna said, feeling an overwhelming rush of sympathy. “That must have been horrible.”

“It was,” the king agreed. “That is why I would only tell you that lord Stark was accused of high treason and executed.”

“Thank you,” she muttered, tears stinging in her eyes.

“You’ve nothing to thank me for,” King Rhaegar told her. “I’ve never known whether there was any truth to the accusations put against your father. In any case, the only proof were just words that boiled the madness of my royal sire. And words are wind. Lord Rickard deserved trial by combat. Fair trial. My family did you great wrong, I know that. There isn’t a time when I don’t wish to change that, but I cannot. I can only beg for your forgiveness.”

“You have it,” she said with all earnestness. His words sounded true and she felt that he had suffered for them a great deal. _He and his soldiers killed your men_ , a tiny voice in her head spoke, _they killed Robert, your lawful husband_. But still Lyanna remained determined. _But what else could he do?_ She asked herself. “It is not your fault and I’m sorry that you have to bear the consequences. Have you decided what is to become of my brothers?”

“Not yet,” he shook his head, “but they will live. I promise you that. Why don’t you ask of your husband?” the king inquired suddenly.

“Is there something you can share with me?” she left his question unanswered as she could not reply to it without going too deep inside her own heart.

“Aye,” the king nodded. “Lord Robert died as a warrior with his hammer in his hand. He almost took me with him, but Ser Arthur saved me from that fate.”

Lyanna looked away, her feelings unclear to her. The sense of numbness that seemed to have lifted returned and covered her as a veil. At least Robert died the way he always wished to. That was all that she could think of at the moment.

***

With Hoster Tully and Jon Arryn’s arrival to Storm’s End the castle was full. The king’s and Lord Tyrell’s hosts still camped outside, Redwyn’s fleet still patrolled the harbour, and heavy guard was put on the gates. Everyone was allowed to walk in and out except the rebellious lords, though King Rhaegar promised Tully and Arryn that they could leave the Storm’s End, when negotiations were over no matter the result.

“But what happens, if they do not accept the king’s terms?” Lyanna asked her brothers in a whisper, casting a fearful glance at the guard who stood by the door. Was he reporting her words to the king?

“The bastard will send an army after them,” Brandon gritted his teeth and Lyanna sighed. It was almost impossible to persuade her older brother to stop calling the man who had the power over his family a bastard. “Lord Jon can hide in the Eyrie, but the riverlands are shattered and Lord Hoster has no chance against the king. He would have to accept all king’s demands.”

Gradually, Lyanna resumed her duties as the mistress of the house. Her health improved with each day and she needed something to occupy herself with, while she waited for the negotiations to end and prayed every day in the godswood for everyone to be safe. She was not allowed behind the closed doors, where King Rhaegar sat with his advisors and all the rebellious lords. She did not know much of what was said inside, while Bran and Ned were unwilling to share and Stannis did not speak to her as he no longer had to.

To her great surprise the king paid her another number of visits, though he did not discuss the political matters with her as well. Instead he talked about his peaceful life at Dragonstone, his children, his mischievous little brother, his daughter’s cat and his dear mother, who was soon to deliver another Targaryen into the world, while Lyanna told him about her childhood in Winterfell and what was it like to grow up with three brothers.

“I envy you sometimes,” the king smiled sweetly. She was already used to that smile of his, but it was strange that he did not smile like that anywhere else, except here, in her boudoir. From what she remembered he did not smile at any other occasions at all. “Up to my seventeenth name day I remained an only child. I believe you might have heard that I was not eager for other childrens' company, but I always wanted a couple of siblings. I have Viserys now, but he is more a son, than a brother. I think my true brother is Ser Arthur.”

“Brandon and Benjen are a bothersome lot,” she grinned, remembering the games of snowballs in the godswood and monsters and maids in the crypt. “But Ned is truly an angel. No one was able to be as calm and unperturbed with me as he was.”

“Lucky you,” the king looked at her intently, studying her face, which made Lyanna flush slightly.

She had noticed such looks before. At dinners, which took place in the great hall, the king sat at the high table between her and Stannis who was now the lord of Storm’s End, at least for the time being. King Rhaegar insisted on these gatherings and soon Lyanna learned that his true purpose was to charm the rebellious lords and make them accept him as their only true king and sovereign not just due to his military power and victory in battle, but because he was worthy of the title.

The king spoke with various lords quite a lot, but Lyanna could not help feeling his gaze following her. When she caught him at it he did not avert his eyes and tilted his head, nodding slightly. Lyanna was at a loss on what to think of it, though his attention was not unwelcome. But she was troubled by it all the same. Brandon still saw him as their enemy, but Lyanna was so used to him talking of peaceful family life that she no longer imagined him slaying northmen, though she knew that he did that. 

“You also may count yourself lucky, Your Grace,” she answered with a teasing tone she never used on him before. “Not many of us can name the Sword of the Morning for a sworn brother.”

“Right you are, my lady,” a smile lit his face one more time and Lyanna mused that not only was she used to it but she came to like it and wanted it and said things on purpose in order to make him smile at her again.

***

Lyanna liked to ascend the top of the drum tower and gaze at the sea. The rustle of waves could soothe her worries and deep blue water and the sky painted in the sunset colours lifted her mood up slightly. Now, when her body obliged her, she could do it again, although her knees still trembled after a long climb. She stood there, wrapped in a warm shawl, with the wind playing in her hair.

“To be honest, I did not expect to find someone here, after your maester Cressen advised that it is a perfect place to be alone.” Lyanna looked back only to find King Rhaegar standing behind her back. She did not hear him approach and wondered for how long he had just remained there watching her. She was at a loss for words and just gaped at him silently. “I’m sorry if I startled you,” he apologized, hoping to extract a reaction from her.

“No, you have not,” she managed a quick smile. “I’m simply just as astonished as you are. I can leave you if you wish, I’ve occupied the place for quite some time already.”

“Please don’t,” the king shook his head. “Would you mind my company?” He inquired, moving closer and standing next to her.

“No, not at all,” Lyanna encouraged him, “your company is… welcome.”

The king fell silent for some time and stared at the distance in front of him. The silence between them was filled with blowing wind and shrill calls of the seagulls, floating above their heads. 

“Do you miss your husband?” he asked.

“What?” she was caught off guard. “I… I don’t… I don’t know.”

When she had first encountered Robert Baratheon she was fascinated by him. She knew that he was admired for his bright looks, his strength and his openness of character. It was said that he was able to befriend anyone and the same was spoken of Lyanna. It seemed that they were destined for each other. A perfect match. But those were not the traits that attracted Lyanna in Robert. He was treating her like an equal, he took her hunting with both of them leading the party, he did not object to her wearing breeches or practising archery, he brought her her favourite flowers.

She thought that when he kissed her it would be heavenly, but it was just fine. He smelled of sweat and tasted sour. What was more, soon Lyanna started noticing things. First was his bastard daughter in the Vale and second was his inclination to drinking, third was his temper and fourth was his ability to close his eyes on what he did not want to see.

She had no choice, however, and on her wedding day she still felt rather hopeful than miserable. Despite his flaws, she thought he was the only man who would not lock her down in his keep. She could have had worse than that. Days after their wedding passed in hunting and feasts and soon Lyanna grew tired of it and tired of Robert and his advances. She took to riding her horse alone rather than in the company of boisterous men, she tolerated the feasts but left them early. “What is wrong with you?” Robert demanded of her. “This is just what you’ve wanted.” But she had wanted something entirely different. 

“Forgive my interference, but did you love him?” The king searched her face but she looked away.

“There was a time when I thought that I did,” she confessed. “Did you love your wife?” Lyanna asked, shifting the conversation from her person. Speaking with King Rhaegar about Robert was strangely uncomfortable.

“It depends on what you call love,” his answer was ambiguous, “Elia was sweet, but there was no romantic love between us, rather a friendship. We were very much alike in character, but that proved to be for the worst not for the best. Though it does not mean that I did not respect her or mourn her death or I don’t love our children. I miss them so much. I miss telling bedtime stories to Rhaenys and I miss us chasing her cat. Aegon must be on his own two feet, while last I saw him he was a baby at wet-nurse's breast.”

He fell silent, and Lyanna felt envy piercing her heart. At least, he knew some understanding and companionship, at least he found some happiness in his children. As for herself, she was almost alone in a crowded keep. Lyanna put her hand on a stone rampart and felt his warm palm covering it. His touch was nervous and gentle. That thrilled and scared her at the same time, her body tensed and a wave of excitement passed right through her core. She glanced at him with amazement and he quickly removed his hand from hers. That made Lyanna feel suddenly cold and empty.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t have… that was… please forgive me,” he stumbled upon the words as if he was well into his cups. King Rhaegar looked confused and perplexed. He turned around and left her just standing there with her heart galloping faster than her favourite racing horse.

***

All of them were gathered in the great hall. The tables were cleared and placed near the walls and the large sentinel-tree chair that served three hundred years ago as a throne for the Storm Kings and later as a high seat for the Lord of Storm’s End was put in the center of the room. The air in the hall was tense as everyone waited for the king to enter. The negotiations ended only yesterday and now it was up to him to say his last word.

Lyanna had not talked to him since their encounter atop the drum tower. He remained civil with her but seemed distant and trying to avoid her. She wondered what she did wrong. She missed their conversations, she missed his smile, she missed _him_. She realized that being in his company had become an essential part of her day and without that she felt that something was amiss.

King Rhaegar walked in with all eyes attached to him. He looked regal and was different from the person Lyanna had come to know. His handsome face was composed as ever, and it was the first time she saw him in his kingly attire. His black velvet doublet bore a three-headed dragon of House Targaryen, his sword-belt was decorated with rubies that sparkled in the dim light and his brow was adorned with thin silver circlet. The king studied people assembled in the hall for some time and only then spoke.

“My lords, my ladies,” he greeted everyone, forcing a smile, but Lyanna could see that it was not genuine as it never reached his eyes. “We are glad to say that we can celebrate this day as the first day of peace.” He paused but no one cheered except for Lord Tyrell and the king’s men. “But peace comes at cost,” the king continued and Lyanna froze. “All the rebellion leaders would pay the increased taxes for several years in order to restore the villages, inns and homes that were ruined during the war. Their titles and lands are preserved with them, but hostages would have to be taken to ensure their further loyalty to the crown.”

The king spoke on, but Lyanna was no longer listening. She felt relieved. Bran would be the Lord of Winterfell and soon she would be going home with him. What else could she desire? She was still engrossed in her dreams when the whole thing was over and King Rhaegar rose from his seat. There was some commotion as people were moving towards each other and Lyanna stood and went to hug her brothers.

“Bloody bastard,” Brandon hissed.

“Please, Bran,” Lyanna begged. “Please stop it. You are going back home to your wife and child! You’re not executed or sent to Night’s Watch!”

“And I have to send my son, my heir, to King’s Landing as a hostage!” Brandon retorted.

“The king is a good man and he is nice with children, he won’t let any harm happen to your son!” Lyanna was surprised at how fiercely she was defending King Rhaegar.

“How do you know that?” her brother was furious and their conversation started to attract attention.

“I _talked_ to him!” Lyanna seethed. “I tried to understand _what_ he is.”

“Please,” Ned tried to interrupt and stop them both, but nobody gave him as much as a look.

“Talked to him, did you?” Brandon exclaimed. “Instead of mourning Robert who died for _you_! For our family!”

“What do you want, Bran?” she asked, shaking her head.

“I want him to admit that it was his family’s fault,” Brandon told her. “But of course Rhaegar Targaryen will never do it publicly!”

“He admitted it, Bran,” Lyanna replied. “And the proof of that is the head on your shoulders.” When she finished the sentence and turned to leave, she came face to face with King Rhaegar who was staring at the three of them. Lyanna felt like she was going to faint, she heard Ned inhaling nervously right behind her.

“You are right indeed, Lady Lyanna,” the king said calmly, bowed to her and left the hall.

***

Lyanna came to speak to the king later in the evening. For several hours she was pacing her chamber, considering whether she should seek him out, but she so feared the consequences of Brandon’s outburst that she decided to go along with it.

King Rhaegar received her in her late husband’s solar. He looked grim and Lyanna wondered what was the reason behind his mood.

“Your Grace,” she cleared her throat after Ser Oswell Whent had let her inside.

“Lady Lyanna?” he looked up at her. “What a surprise! Come, do sit down.”

She obliged him and shifted nervously in her seat. “I’ve come to apologize for my brother’s behavior,” she explained. “It was unacceptable.”

“You won’t always be there for your brother to make amends for him,” the king shook his head, his eyes strangely sad. “He should learn to do it for himself or better learn to hold his tongue. Fear not, my lady, I hold no grudge against him.”

“That’s a relief,” Lyanna smiled. “But why do you think I won’t always be there for Brandon?”

“You will marry again, won’t you?” he shrugged. “You are still so young.”

“Oh, that… maybe,” Lyanna sighed. In truth, she thought that she was not going to leave Winterfell. Ever. She would become a spoiling aunt to the bunch of nephews and nieces.

“When are you leaving?” King Rhaegar asked. He put his elbows on the desk, intertwined his fingers and rested his head upon them. His eyes bore into her with an unfamiliar expression Lyanna could not quite place.

“I’m not sure,” Lyanna hesitated. “Maybe, in a week or so. What about you?”

“In a couple of days,” he bit his lip. “It was an honour to meet you, Lady Lyanna. I want you to know that.” He stood, walked over his desk and approached her. She gave him a small smile, which he did not return. His indigo eyes seemed unusually dark and focused. He took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles tenderly.

“I thank you,” Lyanna could hear her own voice tremble. Her skin burned at places where his lips touched her. She did not want this to stop, she wished for him to kiss her full on the mouth. She was overwhelmed and embarrassed, she did not know what to do, but she was sure she did not want him to leave her side or for her to ever be parted from him. “It was an honour for me too. I would… cherish the memories of our acquaintance.” 

***

_Today he would be gone_ , Lyanna thought as she looked out the window into the yard, where preparations were being made for the king’s departure. _And I will never see him again_. Lyanna doubted that she would be ever invited to King’s Landing or that he would ever visit Winterfell. She did not know what to think or to feel. She was sorry and sad and she longed to be home to heal her wounds. _Why him of all people?_ She wondered.

Just as she was thinking that the door to her boudoir opened, revealing King Rhaegar himself. Lyanna almost jumped and made some rush steps towards him, but stopped midway.

“May I come in?” he asked belatedly as he was already past the threshold.

“You already have,” she pointed out. He seemed rather awkward as he searched for a suitable answer for that retort of hers.

“I’ve come to bid you farewell,” he offered finally.

“Oh, yes, you’re leaving,” she sighed. _Please don’t_ , she begged silently.

“In a few hours,” he stated.

“So soon?” Lyanna blurted out.

“You don’t want me to leave?” he asked and she could not help noticing as his eyes lit up, sparkling with hope.

“I never wanted you to leave,” she confessed.

He gave no reply to that. He was openly staring at her, his eyes shining with warmth and fondness. Lyanna made a step forward and a moment later she was in his arms, being kissed by him just as this was the most obvious thing to do.

The king’s lips touched Lyanna’s with great tenderness and care. She never expected a man’s touch to be so gentle and warm. She only knew Robert before that and his kisses were always rough and demanding, even at the times he tried to console her or calm her. His kisses had become unwanted and bothersome by the time he had left her to fight the war. His beard always brushed against her chin, making her feel uncomfortable, and her white skin became red and itchy. But the king was utterly different. He was welcome to caress her lips with his ever so sweetly.

Despite the warmth spreading all over her body, Lyanna froze. She had no right to desire that, to enjoy that. She had no right to enjoy the kiss of a man, whose family was responsible for her father’s death. _And my husband’s_ , she added, scolding herself. She had come to understand long ago that he was not responsible for what had happened, but there was still bad blood between their houses. What would Brandon and Ned think of that? And yet she longed for the king to not stop kissing her, to take her into his arms and carry her back to her bedchamber…

The king broke the kiss instead, stepping aside and looking rather panicked. Lyanna shivered, when the heat of his lips and his embrace was replaced by the cold air of the room. She stared at the king, feeling at a loss, not knowing what to say or how to react.

“I’m sorry”, Rhaegar Targaryen said. “It was dishonourable of me. I shouldn’t have… I took advantage…”

“You’ve done no such thing”, Lyanna contradicted him, getting out of her reverie. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for”.

“Am I right to assume that…” he started saying with a smile returning to his lips and hope glistering again in his eyes.

“Yes, you are”, she interrupted him, covering a small distance between them and throwing her arms around his neck. This time it was her turn to press her lips to his. She stood on her tiptoes, squeezing into his body, showing him all the desire and longing that she tried to repress for quite some time already. His arms circled her waist, pulling her even closer if closer was possible. Her fingers were lost in his silver tresses, while he continued kissing her, becoming a little bit more demanding, but respectful all the same.

They broke apart only for some air and Lyanna found herself not feeling guilty. It was the late King Aerys who had killed her dear father, it was him, who started the war, not the man who stood now before her, giving himself to her, as she was giving herself to him. It was time for peace as war was finally over. She cupped his face with her hands and looked into his deep indigo eyes. She smiled warmly at him, making him return her smile, though his own was a little hesitant and shifty. He bestowed a light kiss on her forehead, and Lyanna felt all his tenderness locked in this chaste show of affection. She thought that she had never experienced such tenderness since her mother was taken from her by the gods.

“My lady,” the king whispered in her ear, his hot breath caressing her skin. “Lyanna,” he said fervently and she trembled from hearing her name uttered in his soft velvet voice. She could see the same longing that overwhelmed her, written on his face, but he was quite hesitant. She guessed that he was afraid to appear disrespectful. _Perfect knight_ , Lyanna thought, _is he even real?_

“Come,” she told him and he followed her obediently.

They crossed her boudoir and Lyanna led the king away to her bedchamber. She felt his warm hand crushing her fingers. In the very instant the door was closed behind them, they jumped at each other and became tangled with their lips, arms and legs. The king’s hands were suddenly all over her body, touching her face, tracing her jawline, pinching her breasts and caressing her inner thighs under her dress. He kissed her brow, her nose, her lips and then allowed himself to make a path of butterfly kisses from her neck to her collar bone.

Lyanna was not used to such ministrations, as Robert used to get straight to the point of getting her naked while the king did not yet have the time to undress her and she was already wet with longing for him. She had forgotten what it felt like to want someone, to lust for someone. It only happened with Robert in the first weeks of their marriage, but her desire was never fully satisfied, she never had the relief she longed for.

Feeling the tension in her lower belly, she tugged at the king’s doublet showing him what she wanted. He raised an eyebrow cheekily and undid the buttons with his skillful fingers, throwing the garment aside, then grabbed at the hem of his tunic, pulling it over his head and letting it fall to the floor. Lyanna gazed at his bare chest for some moments, studied his milky skin, and enjoyed the sight of his lean muscled form. He smirked at her, clearly pleased with her reaction, but she ignored it. Lyanna reached out and touched the ugly red scar, which ran from his right shoulder to the lower part of his left side. She kissed it lovingly and looked up at him with a question in her eyes.

“Your husband,” the king confirmed.

_Then I’m glad, he’s never finished what he’s started_ , she almost blurted out, but bit her lip, restraining herself. She knew it was unworthy of her but she could not help what she was feeling. “I’m sorry,” she offered instead.

“All of this should have never happened,” he replied sadly. “But I don’t want to speak about it now.”

She agreed with him and he kissed her again. His hand moved to the ties of her dress and fiddled with them unsuccessfully, tangling them harder instead of undoing them. “Seven hells,” he muttered under his breath and it was the first time that Lyanna heard him swear.

“Do you need help?” She teased escaping his lips for a briefest moment.

“No,” he tried to look serious but she could see that he was amused. He turned her and she stood with his back to him. His fingers traced the line of her neck and her shoulder, making her moan softly, and then returned to the ties. After some struggle he released her from her dress and her corset. His hands snaked below her undershirt and touched her bare skin eagerly. He buried his face at the crook of her neck, kissing her there, as she closed her eyes and melted in his arms.

Releasing herself from his embrace, she took off her shift and made her way towards the bed to lay down there completely naked in front of him. He paused, studying her form, and licked his lips hungrily. Lyanna thought that even despite his calm composure he could be quite fierce when he wanted to. The king pulled down his breeches and walked to her, their eyes locked together. “You are beautiful,” he muttered, resuming his kisses. He caressed her nipples slowly with his fingers and his tongue and Lyanna felt his cock brushing against her thigh.

That was the moment that she usually dreaded most. With Robert it was first uncomfortable and then painful. When his touches had become nothing more than tiresome, she was dry as a dornish desert and they never seemed to fit each other as a man and a woman should. But now she wanted to feel Rhaegar, she felt tense and ready and only he could grant her relief. She parted her legs for him, kissing his lips and pressing him closer, feeling his hot sweating skin against hers. Lyanna heard him sigh as he entered her and she threw back her head, allowing him to kiss her neck and breasts.

The way they were locked together was perfect, as if they were made for each other, and Lyanna felt pleasure building slowly from inside her core. Rhaegar was slow and gentle, he studied her face with attention, searching for any sign that she was strained. But she was not. “Are you all right?” He asked, concerned.

“I’m perfect,” she grinned at him. She hid her face in his shoulder, inhaling his scent. It smelled foreign but her very own at the same time. She kissed his shoulder, sucking at his velvet skin, making him moan softly. The tension intensified and Lyanna moved her hips to match him, wanting more of him. She bit her lip. She was close, her breath was caught, her fingers clutched his upper arms. She cried out as the pure pleasure exploded within her body and some moments later she heard him groan and spill himself inside her. He collapsed on top of her and for some time they just lay there motionless breathing heavily and enjoying the aftermath of their bliss.

“Don’t you have to tell your men that you are not leaving?” she asked when he rolled off her and settled on his side, not tearing his eyes from her face.

“I believe, I do,” he agreed. “But my departure is inevitable.” She did not want him to speak about it, she wished him to kiss her and make love to her all over again.

“I know,” she sighed.

“That is why I was thinking if you might consider coming with me,” he added and as he said that she was no longer able to hold his gaze.

“Your Grace, I don’t want to fall prey to the gossip,” she replied bitterly, “and I don’t want to humiliate my house by becoming your paramour.”

“No, you misunderstood me,” he exclaimed. “I want you to join me not as my paramour, but as my queen. I love you, Lyanna,” he said in a barely audible whisper. “I’ve been falling in love with you from that first time I saw you in my tent and today I’ve realized that I can’t survive without you.”

“Oh,” Lyanna said, thinking back to her own feelings, knowing that he deserved better than a mere “oh”. “I want to be with you,” she told him, afraid to utter the word “love”. “But I… You know that it’s complicated.”

“Yes, I know how exactly complicated that is, but I want to go forward with it, because that’s what I desire most of all. Do you?” he asked.

Lyanna felt pressed by his insistence. She watched his handsome face and his well-built naked body, she looked into his eyes and then into her own heart. She felt that she was not against having this sight right in front of her for the rest of her life. Rhaegar Targaryen occupied her mind and her heart, why not let him occupy her bed and her life? Lyanna touched his face. “I do,” she told him. “It’s a yes.”

He smiled and moved closer, his hand slipped between her legs and his fingers touched her playfully and gently. “I believe you deserve some reward,” he teased as she tried to hold her breath. She had never thought he was capable of teasing, but it seemed that there were a lot of things that she would have to learn about him.

Lyanna giggled and freed herself from his embrace. She pushed him down with his back on the bed and positioned herself on top of him. “Didn’t I tell you, I enjoy a good ride?” she smirked. He would have to learn a lot of things about her either.

***

“Brandon would be furious,” Lyanna said as she and Rhaegar sat together in her chambers.

“Let me deal with him,” the king offered. “From what I have learned about your brother he is rash and quick to judge, but not a fool. He will come to see sense.”

“I hope so,” Lyanna sighed.

“That’s all we can do,” Rhaegar shrugged.

“When do you want to get married?” she asked, changing the subject to a more preferable one.

“Whenever and wherever you wish,” he took her hand in his and kissed it.

“We cannot do it right now, no matter how much I want to,” she sighed. “I should respect his memory at least in that way.”

“I understand,” he told her. “I believe that means you are not going with me right away,” he seemed quite disappointed.

“Yes, I… I was hoping to spend some time in Winterfell and then go back to you,” she found herself sounding almost apologetic.

“Wouldn’t you be against me visiting you in the north?” He suggested. “I might bring the children. It will be quite useful and educating for them and you will have some time to get to know each other. After that we can all travel to King’s Landing together.”

“I would love that! And what would you say about getting married in the godswood?” She mused, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. “My father would have wanted that and I...”

“I’m all in for that,” he agreed. “If it makes you happy.”

“It makes me very happy!” Lyanna stood from her seat and came to sit on his lap, making him throw away the book he was trying unsuccessfully to concentrate on. “Your Grace,” she pecked his ear. “I think I still owe you something.”

“What might that be?” he looked up at her.

“I love you, Your Grace,” she grinned. She was afraid to say the words, but now, when they were out she felt strangely content.

“It’s Rhaegar for you. Say it.” He demanded.

“Rhaegar,” she repeated, the name tasting sweet on her tongue. She wanted to say it a thousand times more. “I love you, Rhaegar.”

“I love you, Lyanna.”


End file.
